


From Egypt, With Love

by rileypotter17



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Egyptology, F/M, London, Secret Relationship, professor mormont
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileypotter17/pseuds/rileypotter17
Summary: It is 1954 and Dr. Daenerys Targaryen is the Head Curator of Egyptology at the British Museum in London, patiently awaiting the return of the man she is falling in love with, renowned archaeologist Jorah Mormont. He comes bearing gifts from Egypt and a chance to rethink their secretive relationship.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48





	From Egypt, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Although I know I have MANY wip's that I promise are truly in progress, I couldn't ignore writing this one-shot. I first must thank my lovely, real life partner, who shall remain nameless here but who has essentially co-written the plot of this with me. I love you - and thank you for understanding my love of this ship when you really don't have to.
> 
> Not everything is historically accurate here in order to fit with the plot, but the best effort was made. This is my love letter to London, my love letter to strong women who can be in any positions they want to be, and my love letter to a slightly different, more rakish version of Jorah who lives in my head.
> 
> I also want to thank the incredible fandom, many members of which I feel I have grown close to and even if I am not always the most active, I feel genuinely support me in the way they tirelessly support so many others here. This is a wonderful, welcoming place - thank you in particular to fanoftheknight, ThroughTheBlue, Salzrand, Chryssadirewolf, ToasTea, Clarasimone, Houseofthebear, Terisrog, Zula, Lodessa, Bella, Ladymelodrama, MormontLady and Bridgr6 - (the names I know you as) this is for you.

_From Egypt, With Love_

_London, 1954_

Jorah Mormont rubbed and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and mitigate his headache brought on from days of travel and very little sleep. Although he was happy to be back on _terra firma_ after far too long on a ship, he slightly regretted his impulsive decision to go straight from the docks to the museum without shaving or changing his clothes. His heart pulled him straight to _her_ , no matter how much of a wreck he looked.

As his chauffeured car turned a familiar corner onto the street that led to the backside of the British Museum, Jorah shifted to try and get a glance of himself in the rearview mirror. He smoothed his hair down and hoped for the best.

They parked and as Jorah stepped out of the car and stretched his legs, he watched as three lorries pulled up behind them near the loading entrance, all of them unmarked - all of them having taken different routes there. To say that getting the three gilded sarcophagi there, one in the back of each lorry, was risky was an understatement. He and his men, including his incredible field assistant, Dr. Grey, had taken all the necessary precautions to ensure they weren’t being followed. Even though they had reached the sarcophagi in Memphis first – fair and square – he and his team were never supposed to know about them in the first place. There were more than a few people angry at him for that. Naturally, the journey back was tense, especially since it was slower than Jorah would have liked. There were many times he found himself cursing the _damn Soviets_ because it meant they couldn’t go through the Suez, elongating their trip for several weeks.

Consumed with relief, Jorah enjoyed the awestruck looks of the museum staff who started to come outside, including some security, as the lorries were unloaded, and three enormous wooden crates were unveiled. But Jorah didn’t do this for any of them. No, he did it for the beautiful Egyptology Curator, Dr. Daenerys Targaryen.

**o0o**

“Dr. Targaryen?”

Daenerys ignored the request for her attention, pretending not to hear it. She leaned over her desk, closely examining the hieroglyphs on a relief representing the High Priest of Ptah and scribbled down what she could decipher in her notebook. As the Head Curator for the department, the largest and busiest in the museum, she constantly assessed and researched new acquisitions. She was also the only woman in such an elevated role there, besides her incredible curatorial assistant, Missandei, whom she had insisted be hired alongside her when the British Museum had approached her during her time at the Ashmolean. Daenerys had worked hard for this opportunity and still had to prove herself every day to the ‘boys club’ that dominated the museum, including the Director of the museum, Tyrion Lannister.

“Dany...”

Daenerys looked up. Only Missandei and one other person addressed her in that way in private. And sure enough, her curatorial assistant stood at the entrance to her office, looking as if she were about to burst.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Daenerys gently set down the relief and took off her glasses.

“ _Mormont is back_ – he’s out back – everyone is heading out there...” Missy started but Daenerys rushed past her out of her office door as soon as she heard his name. She briefly considered taking off her heels so she could get up the stairs to the ground level faster, but she walked as quickly and carefully as she could, not wanting to seem completely out of her mind. To get to the back shipping entrance from the Egyptology office located below ground, she had to wind past the reading room and the hundreds of tourists who were already in the museum that morning. She plastered a serene smile on her face as she walked, even if she was anything but calm on the inside.

Daenerys knew he would be back soon – sometime that week she guessed – but with him it was always hard to pinpoint an exact moment. The letters they wrote one another were sporadic at best, but she treasured each of them. They were folded carefully and tucked away in her bedside drawer.

Still – it had been six months since they last saw one another, the longest period of time to date. Every time he went away on another one of his quests, it nearly drove her mad. She was thankful that work kept her busy enough, but there were too many nights when she had gotten drunk and wanted to write to him that whatever it was that they were doing was over. That it was too hard. Two years of it and _maybe_ they had spent two weeks together in total. And it was _never_ enough – not for her.

But every time she saw him, she forgot all of that. The loneliness. The longing. The confusion. He eclipsed all of it.

As soon as she stepped outside, her eyes found him, surrounded by her colleagues with Director Lannister in the center of them all, prying him with questions. Three large wooden crates sat near the shipping entrance, ready to be carried in. Daenerys recognized Jorah’s right-hand man, Grey, talking to some of the security guards near the crates. Her pulse quickened at the thought of what exactly Jorah had brought back this time, but it was nothing compared to the thumping her heart did when she and Jorah locked eyes from a few meters away.

**o0o**

Jorah stopped listening to Tyrion Lannister the second he saw Daenerys step out of the building and walk towards him. It had been six months and yet she still looked the same as she did the night he had to say goodbye to her before this trip. He wanted to push everyone out of the way and go to her, wrap her in his arms, and apologize for being gone for so long.

But no one knew about them. He suspected Dr. Grey did, and potentially Daenerys’ protégé, Missandei, who Grey seemed more than fond of every time they returned to the city. But not a soul otherwise.

Things between them hadn’t exactly started off in a way anyone would have deemed appropriate. They had met at a charity gala for the museum. Jorah had been invited partly because his wife at the time, Lynesse, was friends with all of the other wives of major donors to the museum and was trying to hobnob with them, but mostly, he suspected (which turned out to be exactly the case) that the Director of the museum, Tyrion Lannister, was trying to recruit him. Jorah had made a name for himself in the field of archaeology, but beyond his publications and deep knowledge, was becoming more and more known for the less than honourable ways that he found his dig sites and procured artefacts.

Jorah had started to work in this way because it allowed him his choice of partners. He was able to go out into the field for the highest bidder, and at the time, it had been the Ashmolean. But the British Museum – _well_ – that was another level. And since his socialite wife was bleeding his accounts dry, he needed the money that a leading museum could provide. He felt guilty about the way in which he went about his work, but it garnered him a favourable reputation in London and allowed him to keep things afloat financially.

Tyrion, after pulling Jorah aside and asking him to contract with the museum, introduced him to Daenerys and although he hated to say it, as trite as it sounded, it was infatuation at first sight, but love at first conversation.

Daenerys and Jorah fell into a natural banter for the entire evening over several glasses of expensive champagne. She was incredibly impressive intellectually, had a wry sense of humor, and was uniquely breathtaking. On top of that, she seemed genuinely interested in not only his work, but him as a person.

Jorah completely lost track of Lynesse that night and didn’t even care. He had a few more conversations with Tyrion about his first assignment, his pay, and when he was expected to leave, which turned out – would be that next evening. But beyond business, he spent most of the evening with Daenerys. She gave him a private tour of the museum, showing him the Rosetta Stone without the swarm of tourists around it, the Grenville library, and, finally, the room that housed the Elgin Marbles. They kissed there in that stolen moment alone.

The next evening, he set off on a ship bound for Cairo after packing up what little worldly possessions he had due to his constant state of nomadism and after speaking to Lynesse, asked for a divorce. He had only kissed Daenerys, but that kiss had held more feeling than anything with Lynesse ever had. And it had given him the courage to finally admit it had been a long time coming anyway.

He wasn’t even hurt when Lynesse had turned around and told him she had been unfaithful for years – that it had been so easy to do since he was always gone.

He was only relieved.

And even though Daenerys Targaryen then occupied every bit of his mind and a growing portion of his heart, it became nothing more than a secret affair. He was untethered, but he avoided asking her at all costs if she were seeing anyone else, as that would have been too much for him to handle if it were true - so they came to an unspoken agreement that their relationship didn’t need to be public knowledge. Daenerys feared that since the majority of the artefacts Jorah would be bringing back to England at the request of Tyrion fell under her purview, a relationship between the two of them could be seen as a conflict of interest. Jorah understood that, and while he gleaned that Tyrion very much respected Daenerys and the unparalleled knowledge she brought to her job, that he also wouldn’t hesitate to jump on a chance to put her in her place.

So he couldn’t touch her now, even if he so desperately wanted to.

“Ah, Dr. Targaryen has decided to come see what all of the fuss is about...” Tyrion interrupted Jorah’s reverie.

“It’s good to see you back.” Daenerys nodded at him. To anyone else it would seem polite and collegial, but he recognized the fire smoldering behind her eyes at seeing him again. Every time he came back from a trip, there was always a nagging fear that something or someone might have changed her feelings for him – but her look made him hopeful that this wasn’t the case.

“Likewise. Let me show you the main attraction.” Jorah said and led her over to the crates, giving them a chance to break away from the others. He helped Dr. Grey open the crate closest to them, each using crowbars to break the seal and push the lid back.

“No...it can’t be...” Daenerys gasped when she saw what lay inside the crate surrounded by straw.

“It is. I apologize for the way it is packed – Red Sea ports aren’t as well provisioned as Cairo, but we made do.” Jorah hovered near her, exchanging hopeful glances with Grey and watching Daenerys’ eyes light up at what was before her.

“I didn’t think it would be in this good of condition.” Daenerys marveled before she looked up at Jorah with a smile. The entire grueling excavation and journey was worth it for that smile alone, “This – _the sarcophagus of Prince Shoshenq_ – it’s what I’ve been missing.”

“You’ll find the other two fascinating as well, I’m sure. All of them from the Temple of Ptah of Rameses.” Jorah is proud to bring these to her, “We found them all near Memphis. I have a trustworthy contact that told me about a trader in Abu Simbel who I was able to get blind drunk enough to tell us the exact location.”

“Can I have these moved downstairs?” Daenerys asked Dr. Grey, who nodded and enlisted some of others to help as each crate would take at least ten men to lift up onto the large dollies to get them to the service elevator.

Everyone started to disperse when the crates did and this gave Jorah and Daenerys a moment to speak quietly as they walked, lockstep, back into the museum.

“Are you happy with your new toys?” Jorah asked as he leaned close enough to clandestinely smell her hair – English rose, Earl Grey, and old paper - a combination he would never forget as long as he lived because it was so distinctly her.

“ _Jorah_...” there was something in her tone that held a warning and even more than that, a hint of annoyance.

“You have a very expensive hobby you know.” Jorah teased good-naturedly, desperate to see her smile. She had seemed so happy just a moment before.

“It is _not_ a hobby, you of all people should know that.” She had turned on a dime, stopping both of them, “ _This is my life’s work_ , and while I am pleased that you were able to find these, I didn’t tell you to run off and get them. This isn’t like bringing me a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates.”

“Whoa, Dany, hold on there. What’s going on?” Jorah asked her. He wanted to pull her to him, but there were too many people about, so he kept a professional distance. “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to insinuate that the research and curation you do was insignificant...”

This dampened the fire behind her eyes, but it didn’t absolve him from feeling like a cad because she made a point he had missed for far too long. _She was right_ – every time he took another assignment, it wasn’t for the notoriety or the money, and it was barely for the opportunity to preserve cultural heritage anymore – _it was for her_. In his well-intentioned way, it was to show her he cared about the work she did and try and impress her. Clearly his plan hadn’t been working as well as he had hoped.

“I’m sorry – I know. _I just_...” She stopped and took a deep breath and he was blown-away by how beautiful she looked, even when frazzled, “I missed you. Six months is a long time.”

He nodded, understanding completely, “I missed you too. More than you know. Can I take you to dinner tonight? We can talk about it then.”

A smile appeared on her face again. “Meet me at our spot.”

**o0o**

“Can you hand me the magnifying glass?” Daenerys asked Missandei. The curator was crouched on the floor, flashlight in one hand, at the base of the first sarcophagus Jorah had shown her. Once they all had been carefully unpacked so that the two women and the rest of the small department could further examine them, they got straight to work. Daenerys was already dreaming up what the public exhibition would look like.

“Are you glad he’s back?” Missandei asked casually, getting down on the floor of the work room in the basement of the museum with her friend and boss. Daenerys took the magnifying glass and concentrated for a long while on a particularly complex cluster of hieroglyphs.

“Who are you talking about?”

“The Professor. The Archaeologist. The Smuggler. Your _boyfriend_. Choose whichever name for him you’d like.” Missandei smirked to herself.

“Do you want to continue working on this? Because I am sure Samwell would be more than happy to take your place...” Daenerys said through gritted teeth, never taking her eyes from the markings and only breaking the gaze to write something down in the notebook she carried around with her everywhere.

“Apologies, Dany...” Missandei lowered her voice sheepishly. They were alone in the workroom but she still wanted to be cautious, “It’s just that I know you’ve missed him and he’s not very good at hiding that he missed you as well.”

“Well, he’s _not_ my boyfriend.” Daenerys sniffed.

“I talked to Dr. Grey...”

“Oh, _your_ boyfriend,” Daenerys snapped back, finally turning to look at her counterpart with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s not my...”

“Alright then, what did you talk to him about?” Curiosity got the better of Daenerys and she set down the flashlight and magnifying glass, signaling that she was giving Missandei her full attention.

“Grey likes Dr. Mormont and thinks he’s a good man. And he said that neither of them agree with the means in which Director Lannister wants these things acquired – that it started out fine at first, but this trip pushed them both over the edge. Dany...they ran into a lot of trouble in Memphis, but Dr. Mormont was insistent on getting these back to you. _For you_.”

Daenerys didn’t want to ask if Missandei knew what that trouble entailed, as she couldn’t bear to picture it. And she inwardly seethed at Tyrion. Sure, the museum had the best collection in the entire world, and she loved what she did, but at what cost was it all for? Had it really come down to petty smuggling and looting? Jorah was above that. She was above supporting that.

“Well, he’s a fool then if he thinks these mummified bodies mean more to me than his live one.” Daenerys sighed.

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not. _Well_ , not in so many words. But he should know. He _would_ know if he stayed around for more than a week at a time.” Daenerys pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail, suddenly feeling hot and anxious. Missandei always boxed her into corners like this – and damn was she always right.

“Maybe he doesn’t know and that’s why he keeps leaving.”

**o0o**

Jorah had more than half a day to kill before he needed to meet back up with Daenerys, but he still found himself rushing around the city getting everything done that he needed to. For the past two years he had lived out of a very worn, modestly sized bag and nothing more, simply buying things he needed along the way. The only belongings he kept with him were a few of his favorite shirts that Daenerys seemed to like on him, including a faded yellow one that she said brought out the blue of his eyes, some basic toiletries, and a soft, leather-covered journal for all of his field notes. Tucked inside the journal were Daenerys’ letters and a photo of her that she had given him before he went to Egypt the first time. Such a lack of worldly possessions and nowhere formal to call home since he hadn’t needed anywhere permanent in London meant that if he wanted to look presentable for his dinner date that night, he had a few errands to run: a much needed shave and haircut, a fresh new suit, a cup of tea (he now exclusively drank Fortnum & Mason’s Earl Grey because it reminded him of _her_ ), and a chance to make a few telephone calls with outstanding business he wanted to check in on before he spoke with Daenerys again.

When he arrived back at the British Museum, he felt like a new man and certainly looked more like a polished scholar instead of the rough-around-the-edges archaeologist he appeared as earlier in the day. He walked against the flow of tourists who were headed out as the museum started to close up for the night, and to the room where everything began – the one that held the Elgin Marbles.

Jorah placed himself in front of the motif where he shared his first furtive kiss with Daenerys and admired, as he always did, the smoothness of the marble and the detail of the twisting torsos. _This_ was his specialty, ancient Greek antiquities, and always had been. He had studied it and originally made a name for himself as an archaeologist with incredible discoveries at Mycenae and Delphi. It was only when he got into massive debt with Lynesse and then subsequently involved with Tyrion Lannister, that he started dealing in Egyptian relics.

A split second before he heard Daenerys’ heels softly strike the tile floor, he felt her in the room – an electric charge that pulsed through the air – something he was convinced could only be felt by lovers. He wondered if she felt it too.

“How long before we can make the report to the Royal Archaeological Society?” Jorah turned, hands in his pockets. She looked just as stunning as she had that morning and he fell into step besides her as they walked out of the museum. To anyone who didn’t notice the way they instinctually turned their bodies towards one another, even while walking, or couldn’t keep their eyes off of one another, they were just two people, two colleagues and nothing more.

“I can have the initial report done in a matter of days and have Director Lannister sign off on it. A report should go to the Egyptian Exploration Society as well...” Daenerys mused as they reached Great Russell street and Jorah hailed a cab for them. He found so many things about her indescribably erotic, including when she started to talk shop.

“There’s no rush,” Jorah added as the black cab pulled up to the sidewalk and he opened the back door for her, both of them sliding into the seat before he told the cabbie, “Claridge’s please.”

“What on earth did I do to deserve dinner at Claridge’s?” Daenerys asked, trying to hide a grin. She lived fairly well for a single woman in the city and Jorah was no stranger to wealth, but this was a treat even to her, “And what do you mean by ‘no rush’?”

“I haven’t seen you in half a year – I think that is considered a special occasion. And there is no rush on the reports. I’m thinking of staying in town a little bit longer this time, so there’s no need to have my signature on them right away,” Jorah explained and kept his voice measured, wanting to gauge her reaction. He was hardly surprised that she picked up on it right away.

“I’ll delay them however long I have to then,” Daenerys replied.

**o0o**

A reservation at Claridge’s for dinner was one thing – a romantic booth, an expensive Bordeaux, and passing by Audrey Hepburn coming out of the ladies’ restroom was entirely another. Daenerys felt like she had somehow stolen a glamorous life and that any minute it would be snatched away from her. And more than that - that _he_ would be snatched away.

She walked back towards the booth in the back of the dining room after freshening herself up in the powder room and thought about the romantic evenings she and Jorah had shared in the past. She could count them on one hand since they met, and was faced with a sinking realization that she hadn’t previously strung together - the length of his next assignment always correlated with the luxuriousness of the short time they spent together in between

Which meant that their charmed evening could only result in her facing months without him again. And even if he managed to stay a few extra days, it was a poor exchange rate for the lonely nights she had in store.

Daenerys slid back into the leather booth next to him. Here there was no one who cared if they were in a relationship. No one who knew about the circumstances surrounding how they met - not when there were far too many others in that dining room and posh hotel for gossips to fixate on, so she allowed herself the luxury of holding his hand.

“Will you tell me how long?” Daenerys picked up their previous conversation. Once they had arrived at the hotel, they both had become distracted with the ambience and the wine and each other. Jorah had regaled her with stories about Memphis that carefully omitted anything that would have worried her, and she countered with current museum politics and new research interests no one else would appreciate.

But after staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror of the powder room, she told herself she would work up the courage to ask him about his next assignment sooner rather than later. She would rather know then – not the next morning.

“How long for what?” Jorah asked after he thanked the waiter who placed a delicate chocolate soufflé in the center of their table for their dessert course.

“How much longer you are staying this time?” Could she even dare hope for a week?

“I truly don’t know...” there was a hesitation in his voice as he looked at her and she was so overcome with nerves that she missed the way the corner of his mouth pulled up just slightly, trying to suppress a smile.

“How can you not know? Where is Tyrion sending you this time?” Daenerys’ voice took on an impatient edge partially fueled by the half bottle of wine she had already ingested.

“Daenerys, I don’t know because he’s not sending me _anywhere_. I’ve terminated my contract with the museum and with Tyrion as of today.” Jorah stated and when Daenerys only stared at him, he continued, “It was an easy decision. I always knew it wasn’t going to last forever – there are only so many mummies I can dig up for you.”

“Jorah...”

“I’m serious. Lynesse stopped her fight for alimony soon after I arrived in Memphis – I got a letter but wanted to wait to tell you in person. She’s met some bloke far wealthier than I’ll ever be and is happy as a lark now. I have more than enough money now after all of these assignments, I’m completely unchained, and I think you and I both know that it isn’t right what I’ve been doing.” Jorah continued, regret in his voice, “I haven’t been playing by the rules and it doesn’t matter how esteemed it has made me in the field.”

It was more than Daenerys could take in all at once and for the first time in a long while, she felt a semblance of normalcy and a lack of fear that her happiness would be taken away. “Tyrion has become completely corrupted in his quest towards completionism, hasn’t he?”

Daenerys had suspected that most of what Jorah had brought back from his trips hadn’t gone through the appropriate channels or clearances. That didn’t even cover the rest of the museum, prominent pieces of which were known to have been looted from other countries. She always told herself she wasn’t directly involved in all that because she bettered the collective knowledge through her research and the education it provided. That her conservationism of the objects kept them pristine and safe for generations to come.

But now she wasn’t so sure.

“He has. And I started down that path even before I met him, I’m afraid, and I’m done with it. And I’m done with being away from you, Daenerys.” There was finality in the way he said it, and his eyes burned with a conviction that assured her he meant what he said. “I hadn’t planned on telling you at dinner, but I received an offer from Oxford. Full-time. Tenured. _Permanent._ And only summer travel for a few weeks.”

Daenerys let out the breath she had been involuntarily holding, “Jorah, that’s incredible! And bloody well-deserved. Are you going to take it?”

“Yes. I... _well_...I actually phoned them this afternoon and agreed to the contract. I’ll start with the spring term.” He seemed so genuinely happy and Daenerys leaned closer to give him a kiss on the cheek that just barely grazed the corner of his mouth. Oxford was a world closer than Egypt and for all he had done in his career, she was honestly surprised they had only just offered him something now.

“So, what will you do in the meantime?”

“Stay in London, I think. It’s been so long since I’ve lived in the city – surely you could help me find something?” There was a playfulness to him that was appearing, and Daenerys couldn’t get enough. He seemed _lighter._

She had seen so many sides to him – the conflicted, guilt-ridden married man after they had kissed that first night in the museum – the attentive, passionate, insatiable lover – the dedicated, hard-working archaeologist – the smug, confident provider on the heels of a successful trip – the sweet, tender soul who whispered that he loved her in the early mornings.

But never this free man with the vulnerability that came with all of the options he had in front of him. 

“Well, a few months isn’t a very long time to let something in the city. You could always stay in my guestroom until you move to Oxfordshire...” She wanted to offer her bed, specifically, but didn’t want to presume since he had never stayed over for more than an evening.

“Only if it’s no trouble?” She saw that Jorah looked to her to make the final call on the arrangement and she nodded.

“Not at all. You know I have plenty of room and you could maybe even move in tonight?”

She felt deflated when Jorah shook his head, “No, not tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Because we are staying _here_ tonight.”

**o0o**

Jorah didn’t bother to turn on the lights when he and Daenerys finally managed to stumble their way into the hotel room. He truthfully hadn’t thought they’d make it that far and he’d have to explain themselves to whatever unfortunate staffer caught them fucking against the hallway wall.

But they had just barely contained themselves enough to make it there. The next hurdle would be making it to the bed – something he wasn’t certain would happen until their second round.

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sentiment was a guttural growl that shot right through Daenerys’ body and caused her to blindly reach her hand out in search of something to steady her. Even though it had been ages since they had been together like this, the way they moved with one another was that of deeply connected lovers and the depth and intensity of their couplings left them unsteady in the best way.

He pulled her close to him, his arms wrapped around her waist, her arse pressed against his insistent hardness. He surrendered one of his hands when she took it in hers and drew it down to the hem of her skirt, hooking it under and pulling the fabric up. A moment later his hand was on her sex – warm and wet and...

“Dany...” Jorah moaned and kissed her neck – she wasn’t wearing any panties. She had been sitting there at dinner with him for hours _not wearing anything underneath her skirt_.

“Do you feel what you’ve done to me? All day?” Her breath hitched when he slipped a finger inside of her in response, another finger bent to softly caress her pearl. His head dipped to plant a kiss on the top of her head before he slowly turned her around to face him.

Jorah studied her, reverently, and his fingers traced her collarbone as gently as his field brush would coax away dust from something thousands of years old. He had touched and discovered pieces of history that anyone would deem priceless, but they were _nothing_ compared to her.

His fingers trembled as he undid the buttons of her blouse, slowly revealing more and more of her creamy skin. Never once during any of the nights they had spent together had he ever felt so nervous – not even their first time. He had previously been able to separate the physical attraction to her and the sex from his growing feelings. But this time was different – this time he wasn’t going to be off before dawn with days long travel ahead of him to grieve his absence for her. She never knew how deeply it affected him and he had been keen to keep it that way.

His frequent travels had allowed him to safely fall in love with her without an opportunity for her to reject him. But now he had nowhere to hide.

Jorah was so caught up in the sensation of her skin underneath his calloused fingers that he barely registered that she had his shirt completely unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers and was working on his belt. His mission to uncover her was so singular until she stood, naked and incandescent, even in the dark.

He tenderly brushed her hair back behind her shoulders for him to run his lips over. His kisses traced that line that then led him to the valley between her breasts and down to her navel. When he felt her hands find purchase in his hair and on his right shoulder, he didn’t torture her any longer and tasted her – tasted the anticipation of that night and all of the ones that were missed and all of the ones that would hopefully come after.

The nectar between her thighs was sweet, but the moans that fell from her lips were sweeter. Her soft belly pressed against his forehead as she breathed in and out more quickly in time with the flicks of his tongue against her sensitive, aching pearl.

Jorah didn’t stop until she came undone for him that way, supported by his hands on her hips and the wall behind her. He could have continued like that all night – _wanted_ to continue like that all night – but her gentle tug on his forearm pulled his eyes up to her hooded ones and the look she gave him and his nearly painful hardness pointing straight up at her gave him no other choice for what came next. As soon as he rose to his feet, they were locked in a fervent kiss once more and Daenerys threw one of her legs up and around his waist. With the height difference between them, Jorah felt her rise up on the toes of her other foot and lifted her up so that she could wrap her other leg around him. He pushed her back against the wall, cupped her arse, and moved her so he could thrust up into her. The moment their two bodies fully connected, he felt whole again.

His strong hands gripped her thighs and her nails scraped against his chest and his back as she fought to steady herself with each powerful thrust. She didn’t care that her shoulder blades burned against the wall and he didn’t even notice her heels dig into the backs of his thighs. Their foreheads and teeth and bodies clashed and pulled apart, angry for the time spent apart and relieved that it was over. She came with the most gorgeous sigh and he followed her, purring against her neck and holding her close. When they were both conscious enough again from their beautiful moment suspended somewhere between life and death, he carried her to bed.

**o0o**

Daenerys snaked her hand underneath the sheets and placed her hand on her naked center. It ached in the most delicious way and she allowed herself to relish in the memories from the night before as she slowly woke up - how Jorah had devoured her against the wall, then made love to her so slowly not even an hour later, and then how she had ridden him sometime deep into the night after they both crashed out from exhaustion.

She turned to see him still asleep and by the way the light shone through the space between the curtains, she could tell it was late in the morning. But she had nowhere to be, just a weekend stretched out before her with him and hopefully another three months on top of that before they would be apart again.

Careful to not disturb him, she slid out of the plush bed and toed around the room to pick up her underpinnings, smirking at just how strewn about all of their clothes were and marveling at how beautiful the suite was since she hadn’t had a chance, or even cared to, look around at it last night. But what was more beautiful was the sight of him sleeping amid the luxurious white cloud of messy sheets, his golden hair lit from the sun entering the room. She tucked away the mental image for her deepest fantasies – ones that involved them on a honeymoon somewhere far from London with every night just like the past night.

Things were going more than well, but she didn’t want to get carried away.

She wandered into the bathroom that was the size of a tiny flat and set her eyes on the gorgeous claw foot tub and the soaps and oils from Selfridges and drew herself a bath. She wouldn’t let Tyrion’s money go to waste.

“Dany...”

She was deep in a scented sea of bubbles when she heard Jorah’s voice, thickened from sleep, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, still completely naked. Her stomach clenched with the basest need for him as she followed the lines of his toned calves to his already semi-hard cock and up his chest to the sleepy smile on his handsome face.

“Good morning.” She grinned.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, very much.” The bath was lovely, but she was enjoying her new view more, “Do you want to join me?”

The bath was easily big enough for two and he didn’t hesitate, climbing in on the opposite side and sinking down into the hot water with her.

“I was going to order us in some breakfast, but I think that can wait...” he leaned forward and kissed her, “And there is something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”

Daenerys could feel her expression change at the seriousness of his voice. She couldn’t help herself. It was a gut reaction with him as he had always started off breaking the news to her of any impending trip that way. She didn’t want last night to just be her favorite in a long series of nights. She wanted the days too. “Can it wait? Just...just let me have this moment.”

He reached for her hand in the water and squeezed it when he found it, “I shouldn’t have started off like that...I’m not leaving.”

She wasn’t completely convinced but let him continue.

“I meant everything I said last night. _I’m not leaving,_ but I’m not sure if you will hate me for this all the same.”

“Well, that isn’t a very auspicious start is it?” She defensively raised her eyebrow at him, but his hand kept ahold of hers.

“Look...I’ve been talking to Oxford about my arrangement and contract. The Dean mentioned they were looking to hire two other Professors in the department as they’ve recently had some long-standing academics retire. He asked if I knew anyone who could teach History of Art and who had a research background in Egyptian studies in particular...” Jorah said it all very sheepishly, not quite meeting her eyes.

“What are you saying...”

“I’m sure you’ve heard that Barristan Selmy is retiring.” Jorah finally looked up at her and she nodded. He had been one of her professors and mentors at Oxford all the way through to her doctorate, and had helped her secure her starting role at the Ashmolean, “I guess he threw your name out there as well, so it wasn’t only me...”

“I couldn’t possibly...”

“Why not? Daenerys I certainly don’t want to pressure you, but you have quite a few admirers of your work, chief among them _me_. I know you adore your job at the museum and you are fantastic at it, but wouldn’t it be nice to go back home? I know how much you enjoyed your time at Oxford.” Jorah left it at that for the moment and let the offer hang in the air.

“You want me to go there with you?” Daenerys asked, making sure she was understanding correctly. It was a lot to take in.

“Ideally, yes. I mean, _truthfully_ I am being very selfish here but it would be completely on your own merit, not my whims. And if you wanted to move there with me and live together then I would be the happiest man. And if you want to take the job and completely ignore me, I would be heartbroken, but incredibly proud of you. And if you want to stay here in London and continue the incredible work you do, then I will come down every weekend to visit.” His blue eyes widened as he laid out the possibilities and his feelings were written so completely over his face that it was impossible not to see which of them he preferred.

She studied his face and her own heart. It was now clear as day to her that he wanted to continue this relationship as much as she did, but she was also overcome that he would genuinely put her wants and desires first, even if it would hurt him.

A post at Oxford at her age, and as a woman no less, was nearly unheard of – and the research she would be able to do would be astonishing, not to mention the chance to help foster younger minds towards curiosity and appreciation of history and the arts in the same way Dr. Selmy and her other professors had.

And Missandei was ready to be a full curator, there was no doubt about that.

“And you won’t get sick of me? Living with me and working with me?” It sounded like bliss to her, if she were being honest with herself.

“Daenerys,” he kissed her softly, pulling her into his arms in the bath and making the water splash up and over the sides as he maneuvered her closer, “I’m in love with you and I’ve already spent too much time away from you. I’ve had years of adventures by myself. I want to do this next one with you.”

She grinned like a fool as she sank back into his arms and felt him plant a kiss on the top of her head, “Then let’s have an adventure Professor Mormont. You and me.”


End file.
